In my younger days, I had quite a temper. A combination of overcompensating for my small stature and growing up with four older brothers brought about this condition.

I was not out of control, but I had a few fights at school, especially around junior high.

Nothing profound really changed things. I did start to have some success in wrestling and channeled my energy there. But at some point, I pretty much stopped lashing out.

I thought of all this last week as we went to an event to celebrate the birthday or a good friend. He had arranged for a group to attend a dinner at a local fire hall.

My pugilistic past came to mind because the dinner also included raffles throughout the night. The prizes alternated between money and guns.

I didn’t know of any lawyers present, so Warren Zevon would have been a little disappointed, but that’s not important right now.

All of this comes together because the thought of me with a firearm pretty much amuses anyone who I tell about this event.

Almost all of my current friends know nothing about that kid who would swing at someone because of a simple short joke. The thought of me in any kind of violent setting has made most of them laugh.

That doesn’t mean I ever had an affinity for firearms. I don’t like guns. That doesn’t mean I want to take them away from people. I just have no interest in owning one.

Well, I didn’t until I had the opportunity to win one simply for paying $20 to support a fire company, eat some roast beef and drink some beer. All of a sudden, the story about how I got the gun trumped my instinct to not want a gun.

That’s how I roll. The possibility to telling people something funny would outweigh everything.

So every time they called the numbers for one of the many drawings, I pulled my ticket out of my pocket – even though I memorized the three-digit number – and wished not so quietly that they would pick my number.

In the end, I won nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. I didn’t even have any luck at the many other games of chance at the event.

I could look at all of this as a great opportunity to donate money to a worthwhile local cause. Somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind, I know that’s true.

But I wanted to win a gun if only for the chance to tell everyone that I won a gun. I probably would have turned down the actual weapon and taken the cash value, but I would have left out that small detail when I told the story.

They still think it’s pretty funny that I even went to an event where I could win a gun, but I think we all have a responsibility to supporting the organizations which keep us safe and happy.

Even if that means giving someone like me the chance of winning a gun. I guess keeping my temper a secret makes for a good story either way.